


Reflected

by KyeAbove



Series: The Reinforcement Of Agony AU [127]
Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-25
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2019-06-16 01:05:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15425625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KyeAbove/pseuds/KyeAbove
Summary: Agony:HellHenry goes into Joey's office for the first time since returning to the studio.





	Reflected

~Unknown~

* * *

 

There was less dust covering the room than there would be if it had been abandoned for thirty years. This room had been tread through. Rummaged through. Papers were in the beam of his flashlight no matter where Henry shone it.

Henry felt for the switch on the wall, and the room filled with light, and Henry turned off his flashlight. This was the first time he’d been in Joey’s office since _that day,_ even in all the time he’d been living at the studio.

There were words on Joey’s wall too, like many places in the studio.

**_ONE LAST CHANCE TO KILL THE DREAM..._ **

Back in the good days of the studio writing on the walls with ink had mostly been goodnatured fooling around. None of those sort of messages remained, and it’d been turned onto its head into some sort of cruel thing.

These words on the far wall, background to Joey’s desk, were none the kinder than the rest.

Henry wasn’t sure why he’d come here now. Neither did he know why he’d stayed away from here for so long. This was where everything changed, but he’d been in Joey’s office countless times before that day.

On Joey’s desk sat an assortment of items. An empty vase that Joey’s twin sister had bought for him. It was a birthday gift, in return for the necklace Joey had bought his sister. The vase was a deep purple, and stood out even now among the otherwise uncolorful office.

That vase often had flowers in it, living ones, or dried flowers Joey had put back in after hanging them, but now it was empty. There was a chip in it, and Henry was afraid to touch it in fear it might break.

Papers on Joey’s desk, all covered in ink, held no clue other than that it clearly it wasn’t a leak or purposeful poring that covered the pages. Every line and a word had ink spread over it, by hand. The streak marks and patterning and small gaps gave it away.

Joey, if it was him, was trying to hide something. After he did all this, had he stood up and turned around, and wrote the words on the wall?

Henry could picture it, and it was his heart, and his acknowledgement that despite being a monster, Joey had been, still was, human, that make Henry see Joey fall to his knees and cry afterwards.

Or maybe Henry was wrong on all accounts. 

Henry shook it away, and moved the papers, and under the papers where picture frames. Joey liked photographs. Something about them make him giddy, and he’d excitedly tell someone all about them like he was the only one who knew what a photograph is, even though they were commonplace.

All the frames were covered with ink, and years dulled what would be in these frames…

...all frames except one. Henry snached it up. A potential clue? A further haunt?

The photo in the only frame not defaced was of…

...him.

Henry thirty years ago, that is. But this was _him._ Joey had kept a picture of him, and for all this time it still remained. All that time, and Joey hadn’t tried to forget.

Joey had held his heart out and Henry had crushed it. Joey still held his heart out, and all this happened.

Why?

Why had Joey, who was all sorts of a wonderful person even with his faults, suddenly shifted into this cruel person who ruined so many lives?

This was why he’d avoided Joey’s office for so long, wasn’t it? He still didn’t understand why his photo was only one not hidden by ink. By the now, the Ink Demon could have came in and defaced the frame himself. He’d know where it was.

So why-

There was a creak behind Henry. The studio settling, maybe? But, no.

Placing the picture frame down, Henry prepared himself. It was a faint sound, but Henry _knew._

He was no longer alone in the room.

**Author's Note:**

> The ending of this will be addressed in a future story. 
> 
> The photo of young Henry is [here.](https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Lucijan_Marija_%C5%A0kerjanc_1920s.jpg)


End file.
